


Tabula Rasa

by summersaults16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Hermione Granger, Badass golden trio, Canon Divergence, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fighting Dirty, HBP AU, Hermione gives no fucks, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Revenge, Ron the Strategist, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summersaults16/pseuds/summersaults16
Summary: Hermione Granger is a girl wary of the flames. A phoenix that burns into ashes every time but knows how to rise again. Tom Riddle is a boy who plays with fire that cannot die. A snake poised in hatred waiting to strike. None could unravel his secrets nor his real intentions but only one knew the truth underneath the facade. And it all began with a diary...  Bad Ass Mother Fucker Hermione! Tomione Half Blood Prince AU. (PLEASE READ THE AN!)





	1. The Astronomy Tower

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: Hey guys, this story is a Half Blood Prince AU. I changed some canon scenes for the plot. One is that Dumbledore died in the Astronomy Tower before Harry found out about the horcruxes so two, there was no visit to the cave and Harry never had the information from Slughorn. Three, Harry and Draco's confrontation in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom did not happen. There will be other canon scenes that will be altered and revealed through the course of the story, remember this is a HBP AU!
> 
> P.S. A bit of dialogue was taken from the HBP book and movie. Btw, this is my first ever fight scene so cut me some slack and leave a review :) This idea is inspired by my first Tomione story (which I've already deleted) and morphed into something totally different. Many thanks to Mrs. Ren and Silver Orbed Lioness for doing a quick alpha read when I was doubting myself.
> 
> *Thank you to Sunset Whispers for being an awesome beta!

****

* * *

**Three**. Three seconds passed before Hermione Granger realized she could not move. Dumbledore had cast a Full Body-Bind Curse while the three of them were under the Invisibility Cloak as Death Eaters surrounded him. The Dark Mark was hovering ominously in the pitch black sky over the tallest tower in Hogwarts.

  
**Two**. Two faces of the people she would never forget in her life stood before her – Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape: her childhood tormentors. Unobscured by the sea of black cloaks and masks, she could clearly point out Malfoy's white blond hair from the throng of Voldemort's followers. Malfoy had his wand at the headmaster's throat after he disarmed him. His face was crumpled in anguish from the weight of his duty.  
  
"Draco..." She heard Dumbledore speak as though he was not about to be murdered. "Years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you."  
  
“I don't want your help!” Draco snarled as angry tears trickled down his cheeks. His knuckles turned white as he gripped his wand tighter. “Don't you understand? I have to do this! I have to kill you! Or he's going to kill me!”  
  
She hardly registered Bellatrix screeching, “Do it, kill him now!” or Fenrir roaring, “He doesn't have the stomach, just like his father. Let me finish him!” in the background as Malfoy continued to remain rooted on the spot, wand trembling in his hand. For the sound of Snape bellowing, “Avada Kedavra!” overtook her senses and a jet of green light pierced the headmaster’s chest.  
  
**One**. One more death in the form of Albus Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower was all it took for the small shred of hope keeping Hermione together finally fall apart. She could feel all the suppressed anger boil deep in her system, erupting to the surface and flowing through her veins like molten lava. Her warring emotions resembled a glass slowly filling. There was no warning, no outward sign of distress until the liquid reached the top and by now it was already overflowing.  
  
She, along with Harry and Ron watched in horror as their headmaster's body suspend in the air. His withered hands reached out, fingertips grasping the endless crevasse of the night. The wind pushed against his face, whipping his hair and his robes with brute force. Although, his calm expression did not falter even in the face of death. Albus Dumbledore surrendered himself to his inevitable fate, until he was nothing more than a blur that swirled out of existence.  
  
She didn't even have time to look as Harry leapt up from the covers of the Invisibility Cloak with his wand drawn out. His magic crackled with rage as he shouted, "Sectumsempra!" in the direction of an unsuspecting Snape and Malfoy. Hermione wasn’t sure who he was aiming at, but it appeared Harry didn’t care.  
  
Dark magic burst forth from his wand and Snape swiftly sidestepped the spell, but a loud cry erupted from Malfoy’s lips as the curse hit him square on the front. Crimson red spurted from his face and body as though he had been slashed with an invisible sword. He staggered backwards and sagged to the floor.  
  
There was no time to mourn Dumbledore, no time to prepare herself to grieve for another life lost as a powerful hex headed straight for Harry’s back. Hermione pushed Harry to the side and rolled to the ground. She flicked her wand and screamed, “Expelliarmus!”  
  
Curses and hexes flew from all directions.

“You filthy, little Mudblood!” Bellatrix shrieked and raised her wand at Hermione. A dark curse was coming straight at her.  
  
“Hermione, look out!” She heard Ron yell though, it was too late her for to dodge the curse before she saw him threw himself in between her and the incoming spell.  
  
“Ron!” Her voice was filled with dread as she kneeled next to him when his body landed with a hard thud on the floor. Blood poured from his abdomen as he writhed in pain. She frantically waved her wand at Bellatrix and cried, “Expulso!”  
  
The blue light narrowly missed the older witch, blasting the stone pillar instead, but the impact of the explosion slammed her back against the brick wall with a sickening crunch. Although, she was not going to take any chances with the deranged woman.

With her wand still fixed on Bellatrix, Hermione flicked her wrist and said, “Petrificus Totalus!” Watching in satisfaction as Bellatrix who did not even have a chance to recover from the explosion, gone rigid with her limbs snapped together and jaw shut closed.  
  
Hermione quickly pulled Ron behind a remaining section of the tower. She pointed her wand at the wound and cast a simple “Tergeo,” to clear the dried blood. She tore a section of her sweater and gingerly wrapped it around his waist. She took his arm and placed his hand firmly on his stomach to help stop the blood from flowing.  
  
From a few feet away, her eyes immediately found Harry. He was caught in a duel with Snape who held Malfoy’s limp body in his arm with a steel grip. Harry was firing spell after spell, brandishing his wand wildly as their former Potions Professor continued to block his attacks with a little more difficulty due to Malfoy’s dead weight.  
  
If she took a moment to think about it, Hermione would have found it quite odd why Snape’s attention was focused on holding up a shield instead of inflicting Harry with spells of his own.  
  
“Sectumsempra!” Harry’s voice was filled with fury and hatred that burned so deep in his heart, it was ingrained in the tissue. “Fight back! You _coward_ , fight back!”  
  
Maybe it was the way Harry said it or the word itself, but if there was one thing Hermione was certain of she saw something in Snape snap.

  
A movement of the older wizard’s wand deflected the curse and he knocked Harry down on the ground with a jinx, kicking the younger boy’s wand away. “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter?” Despite the thick tension in the atmosphere, a small glint of recognition reflected in Harry’s eyes. “Yes. I'm the Half-Blood Prince.”  
  
Before she let her brain decide what to do, her body had acted on autopilot and she found herself running across the Astronomy Tower. Her footfalls rung like a fast paced tune off the stone floor with only one goal in mind: she had to get to Harry. She ran so fast her clothes and hair became slick with perspiration, clinging to her body like a second skin. Though, it was the feeling of something warm and wet trickling down her arm that made Hermione pause and realize something was wrong. A sharp pain flashed up her shoulder and she spotted a large gash had sliced her skin open – she was bleeding.  
  
“You’re not going anywhere, Mudblood.” She heard Greyback growl wickedly. His wand was fixed firmly at her direction. The werewolf had a feral look in his eyes, an animalistic determination eager to cause more harm and damage than necessary.  
  
“Desist, Greyback!” Snape stopped him. “The Dark Lord has summoned us,” he ended his words and took Malfoy’s unresponsive form in his arms, disappearing in a cloud of black smoke without looking back at Harry.  
  
Greyback reluctantly walked away. He bared his fangs at Hermione, exposing a row of sharp, pointed teeth capable of tearing flesh but she would not allow herself to flinch. He lifted the immobilized Bellatrix on his shoulder and disapparated as well. Ignoring the excruciating pain on her body, Hermione rushed to Harry’s side. “Harry, are you alright?”  
  
He did not move to stand nor did he make an indication he heard her at all. The heaviness of the situation penetrated his limbs as much as it was infused in his mind and then, he broke down in despair. It was a desolate sound that came from a person drained of all hope. She could feel all the agony radiating from Harry. It was palpable like the frigid wind that continued to blow violently in the tower and the adrenaline that had been powering Hermione since the fight evaporated, leaving her weak and tired.  
  
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and bit her lip as she waited for the pain to subside. “This is the last straw, Harry. We need to fight back.”  
  
“We've been fighting all our lives, Hermione...” His voice came out hoarse, various emotions laced in his tone.  “That's all we've ever done,” he finished so softly – so broken and lost, it almost felt like nothing he did would ever be enough.  
  
The anguish caused by the long cut on her shoulder made Hermione stumble backwards until she felt a chunk of concrete behind her and she leaned against it. Her movements brought Harry’s attention to her and he bolted up in alarm when he saw the bright red blood decorating her arm but Hermione was not concerned about _that_. She held Harry’s gaze – hard and determined, forcing him to look directly in her eyes when she spoke,  
  
“No, now we fight dirty.”

 


	2. The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who enjoyed the story. For the comments, bookmarks, kudos, and hits! It makes me so happy!
> 
> Before you read this update I want to inform you all that Tom Riddle will not make his appearance in this chapter for now. I want to create the right amount of leverage, more in depth world building before his actual in-the-flesh debut in the story so please be patient. I'm sure you won't enjoy it if I rush events. I have it all mapped out and yes, this is most definitely a Tomione fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> My utmost gratitude to the amazing Sunset Whispers for her brilliance! She helped me through my writer's block and polished this fic so now it's all smooth and shiny! She is a goddess *heart eyes*
> 
> Btw look at the manip I made! Look at my pretty!

* * *

Hermione soon realized that Bellatrix's curse was no ordinary one. It took Ron three whole weeks to recover from his stomach being sliced open and even now he could still barely eat.

The incident in the tower was a constant reminder of how they all failed and  _just how much more were they willing to lose_? The unspoken question invaded her thoughts, bypassing her carefully built walls and mocking her like an unwanted visitor in her psyche with no intention of stopping. The smell of despondency and defeat permeated the air – strong and pungent as their arrival in the Burrow that very night.

* * *

_Being the least injured of the three, Harry was considerably lucky emerging from the fight with only a few minor gashes. If Hermione believed in the Art of Divination she would have agreed with the statement, no doubt about it. She never really cared much for the subject and given their current predicament, she dismissed the idea entirely. She did however, agree to Side-Along Apparate with Harry._

_Using her uninjured arm, she lifted her wand and transfigured her sweater into a makeshift bandage to support her shoulder. She did the same thing for Ron, whose dressing on the waist was quickly darkening and had taken on a brownish hue. The amount of bleeding left him unconscious and his skin ghostly pale. It made Hermione anxious._

_"We need to get to the Burrow, Harry. Ron looks awful."_

_"Your shoulder doesn't look good either, Hermione. But let's go, it's not safe to stay here," Harry replied and clenched his fists. His assumptions about Draco Malfoy had been right all along. If only he listened to his gut then he wouldn't have been too late. It was_ Malfoy's _fault that Death Eaters infiltrated the school. It was_ his _mission to kill Albus Dumbledore. And regardless of everything_ he _did and did not do, they were still running away._

 _Harry's green eyes swept over the castle and up at the bitter night sky. His irises saw everything and yet, reflected nothing. Behind them, however, blazed a feeling far more potent and more intense than ever before. A feeling he was now more accustomed to:_ anger _._

_The clouds above them billowed across the pale moon, casting Hogwarts into an ominous darkness, but the Dark Mark was no longer in sight. He and Hermione both held Ron's body firmly as they disapparated from the Astronomy Tower and headed to the Burrow._

** 

_All color drained from Molly Weasley's face when she opened the front door. Her expression bore stunned silence mingled with fear. Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open – a look she wore most of the time now. Her hands found the door frame, fingers gripping it tightly as her nails dug into the hard wood for support or else she would have collapsed. There stood on the Weasleys' front porch was her badly wounded son being held up by Harry and Hermione._

_A cut rested above Harry's brow accompanied by several gashes and scrapes on each arm. Hermione's sweater was torn, exposing her blood caked arm. A sling was wrapped around the top of her shoulder to the crook of her elbow. However, the worst one of them was_ Ron _whose flaccid form would have slumped on the ground if Harry and Hermione hadn't been keeping his body upright. He had unconsciously wrapped his arms around his midsection, as though to stop his insides from falling out._

_"Mrs. Weasley…" Hermione's voice was raspy so she coughed to relieve her dry throat. "We need help."_

_In an instant as if a spell was broken, the older woman snapped out of her reverie. "Right, quickly come in!" She immediately ushered the three inside the living room, glanced to her right and left to make sure they weren't being followed before she shut the door closed. Then, she screamed for her husband, "_ Arthur _!"_

_Mr. Weasley had a healer come over in less than five minutes. Ron was still unconscious, lying supine on the couch as the mediwitch examined the extent of his injuries. The skin surrounding his abdomen was lacerated, exposing his internal organs where it should not have been. The blood soaked his shirt while she tried to cover the ripped flesh._

_After she had thoroughly inspected the wounds, the healer tucked her wand in the pocket of her robes and spoke, "Your son suffered great trauma and blood loss in his abdominal region. The curse that hit him tore his stomach open, allowing the contents to seep into his bloodstream, damaging his liver and intestines."_

_"Will he be alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked, worry lines were etched on her forehead while she clutched her husband's hand for comfort. Every time her eyes would glance at the clock where Ron's fate remained at mortal peril._

_"Stomach fluids don't normally travel through the bloodstream since it contains acid as well as other components that can cause severe infections in the body," the mediwitch answered as she cut Ron's shirt open. "I prepared a cocktail of potions that should be applied to his injuries every hour for the next three weeks and his dressings must be changed daily." She methodically cleaned his wounds and placed a new bandage over it once she had given him the necessary potions. "Your son will recover. I only found small traces of Dark magic in the curse that was used."_

_She then treated Hermione's shoulder before moving on to tend to Harry's brow. The healer had told the younger witch that she was lucky she sustained only a cut on her limb. Although applying the medication might hurt, she would feel better in a few days just like Harry. It did not take long for Hermione to learn that what the mediwitch said to her was most definitely_ wrong _._

_The duration of their recovery was absolute torture for her and from the discomfort on Harry's face, he might have felt that way too. Molly had gone into full-blown mother hen mode, shifting between smothering them with care and scolding them for their rash behavior and most often than not she did both at the same time._

_The older woman went on a tirade about how they were too young to fight. That children should not get themselves killed in a battle that was not theirs to partake in. War could tear you apart and turn people into monsters. It would strip you of your strengths and expose your vulnerabilities – flaying you from the inside out._

_In all honesty, Hermione could not blame her for the way she was acting as she had almost lost a child. But_ this _… this was_ her fight _as much as it was Harry's. And when her line of sight fell upon Ron's sleeping form, she knew with certainty that he would always fight alongside them, as well._

* * *

Remus Lupin visited the Burrow the day Ron finally regained consciousness. Their former DADA professor had heard the news of Bill's attack by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback prior to the trio's arrival at the Weasleys' home. Remus had informed Arthur and Molly that their eldest son would not turn into a werewolf, however, he would still develop some lycanthropic symptoms and the injuries he sustained would leave him with a permanent disfigurement. Compared to Professor Lupin's condition, Hermione thought Bill was fortunate that Greyback had not transformed the night he was assaulted.

When he was finished explaining, the older wizard proceeded to check on Ron. "How are you feeling?" Remus asked as he sat on the chair by his bed.

"Like a herd of bloody Hippogriffs are kicking me right in the gut. Everything hurts," Ron answered, groaning in pain. The effort of pulling himself up to a sitting position was difficult enough for him. "I can't even eat without throwing up."

"Well, maybe next time it'd be better to conjure a shield to block a curse instead of using yourself?" Lupin raised a brow at him and Ron looked away slightly embarrassed, but he knew that he had a point.

"In all seriousness, Ronald, you should be grateful. You could have died," the older wizard added with no hint of amusement.

"Professor, do you know what curse Bellatrix used on Ron?" Harry inquired, beating Hermione's curiosity.

Remus' forehead creased in contemplation. "I'm afraid it's a spell I've not encountered before... probably something of her own creation. But magic, especially Dark magic always leaves a trace–" He was about to say more about the subject when he heard Arthur call for him from the hall. Politely excusing himself, he headed to the door and Hermione followed after him.

"Professor," she said when she knew she was out of earshot. She seemed apprehensive as she chose her next words carefully before continuing, "You may be repulsed by my question, but I need to know."

"I always assumed you had a penchant for knowledge, Hermione. What is it?"

She did not miss a beat and went straight to the point. "How did Ron survive the curse?"

Remus folded his arms before replying, "My only theory as of this moment, is that perhaps Bellatrix hadn't perfected the spell. The Dark Arts requires a caster's malicious intent in order to be successful and magic of this degree could also be hard to control."

"Would a person be able to replicate a curse even without knowing the incantation?" Hermione asked, intrigued to know how it worked and how to achieve it. She could feel her anticipation building as she waited for her professor to respond.

Remus eyed her speculatively, although he did not pry as to why she wanted to know. "It would be difficult, but not impossible."

His confirmation was all she needed. Hermione could feel the cogs inside her brain working on overdrive. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of chaotic twists and turns all coming together to form into one idea. She needed to make a visit to the library soon.

Ron was foolish to risk his life like that without even taking into account the repercussions of his actions. When Hermione returned to the room, she couldn't help but lash out at him. She told him in vivid detail, using words that she had no idea could come out of her lips and would have made the Weasley matriarch rinse her mouth with a ' _Scourgify' that he shouldn't have done that_  – that it was incredibly  _stupid_  and  _annoyingly_ Gryffindor of him to use his body as a shield. How dare he try to kill himself  _for her_. Who  _does_  he think  _he_  is?

She voiced her frustrations, feeling the pressure build up inside her like a bomb slowly ticking, ready to explode at any minute. When she ran out of words to say, chest heaving up and down that began slowing to a normal rhythm, Hermione watched as Harry turned silent with her colorful outburst. Although, much to her dismay, Ron simply took it in his stride. She assumed that maybe having five older brothers and one younger sister had its advantages because  _of course_ , he was used to this sort of thing. He laughed then winced slightly from the pain in his abdomen before clapping her on her  _good_  shoulder as she had to remind him more than once that day. For the last time he made an error it didn't end too well for him.

"It's okay, Hermione," Ron said as though they were merely discussing homework and it was not  _his_   _life_  on the line. "You're one of my best friends."

His sincerity had her sighing and instantly, her growing temper was defused. She knew it was unfair, Ron did not deserve her ire. On the contrary, she was truly grateful and she knew he knew it too. However, her heart was replaced by a hot coal in her chest, glowing and burning within her at the same time. Deep down inside, she would never admit how insignificant she felt compared to him. He was a Pureblood even if he was a blood traitor and she was just an ordinary Muggleborn witch; being a Halfblood like Harry was much better than this. In this Wizarding society she was a nobody. Would they even bat an eye if she was killed?

If they had asked her long ago she might have cared what they think. Now, she was past the point of caring, retribution was the only thing on her mind. So, what if she was a Muggleborn? ' _A filthy_ ,  _little Mudblood_ ,' as Malfoy liked to call her. If Voldemort could shape the Wizarding world to his whims then so could she.

Nobody had spoken after Hermione's fit and the silence that followed was deafening, putting her on edge. The truth she kept locked away suddenly poured out of her mouth and it was too late to stop it.

"I am sick of watching people  _die_ , knowing I could've saved them if I had done things differently. I am tired of constantly fighting for my life using magic meant for defense. I am fed up of being told what spells I can and cannot use. I am _done_ playing by the rules," Hermione ground out through clenched teeth. She was both physically and mentally exhausted. Despite her healed shoulder, she felt constantly drained as though her magic was leaking out of her body. She looked up, brown irises fixed on Harry and Ron. "I don't want to survive in this war. I want to  _live_  even if it means I have to–"

 **Kill**. It was a word she did not need to say aloud for Harry and Ron heard it loud and clear. This was an act of supreme evil. The ultimate crime that would separate the saints from the sinners. Although, they would not address themselves as murderers. That term was reserved for the psychopaths, to those who took lives and did not crumble under the weight of their guilt even when they had a choice.

"This might be the only way to win the war," Ron agreed, nodding solemnly.

With Dumbledore dead, Voldemort and his Death Eaters would take control over Hogwarts once they seized the Ministry. They had no options left.

"We won't make the same mistakes again," Harry vowed as he met their gaze. It was a silent promise engraved in stone. A newfound confidence surged through his core, purging what was born of fear inside of him. They thought he was  _weak_. A measly orphan boy who was no match for the darkest wizard of all time, but their lapse in judgement – their  _error_  would not be his own.


	3. Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed some of the events in Dumbledore’s funeral. I won’t go into so much detail about it since it’s not really the core of this chapter. The tomb is located by the shores of the Black Lake like the books and not on an island like the movie. Always remember this is a HPB AU! I am not following the book or movie and stuff will be interpreted my way. I totes enjoyed writing this chapter. I looove a strategic golden trio and I want to make use of Ron the Strategist! You bet your ass you’ll be seeing more of this kind of golden trio! 
> 
> Thank you to the brilliant Sunset Whispers who took the time to look over this even a day before Sunday! Now, it's all polished! I am soo thankful to have her. She is the best beta/alpha ever.
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> IMPORTANT: A lovely guest pointed out a plot point I overlooked while writing the first chapter. It was actually something I wanted to clear before but forgot. The trio went to look for Dumbledore's body when he fell before they Apparated to the Burrow. This flash back scene was purposely added on this chapter to emphasize the headmaster's death. So hope it's all clear.

* * *

Death is a transition. The individual, the characteristics, and the memories may die, but the soul moves on. They say that a man who has lived his life to the fullest does not fear death, and sees it as the next great adventure.

It was only proper for Albus Dumbledore to be buried in the grounds of the school that he died, trying to protect. He was laid to rest in the White Tomb, the sole grave located at Hogwarts. His tomb was situated by the shores of the Black Lake, the calm waters mirroring the sky above. They resembled the kind of monochromatic hues before the wake of a storm, awash with various shades of grey. Although, faint sunlight managed to break through the barrier of clouds that were gloomily pushing against each other, as though nature was mourning with them.

Not many people had heard of Dumbledore's death and his funeral was attended by those who knew him personally. Hermione thought it was best for this information to be kept quiet from the public, at least for now, because his demise would cement the Order's defeat and Voldemort's victory.

She remembered when the three of them found the Headmaster's broken body. His eyes were closed, his limbs positioned at odd angles and dried blood dribbled from his mouth. Despite his disturbing appearance, he looked eerily peaceful as if he were merely asleep. What struck her the most, however, was the unreadable expression on Harry's face as he knelt beside Dumbledore's body.

Wordlessly, Harry fixed the old wizard's half moon spectacles on the bridge of his nose and wiped the blood away with the back of his sleeve. The proof of his grief lay inches below him. Compared to his previous outburst in the Astronomy Tower, he did not shed a single tear.

**

Convincing Molly Weasley that the three of them needed to remain at Hogwarts became a difficult task after their three week recuperation period in the Burrow.

"Mrs. Weasley, please. We have to help!"

The Weasley matriarch adamantly refused Hermione's numerous attempts to make the older witch see reason and Ron could not help himself from reminding his mother a little more forcefully.

"Mum, you can't do this! Even Ginny is still here to study!" He exclaimed, scowling in the direction where his younger sister had been sitting since the beginning of the funeral ceremony.

Ron's shouting instantly diverted Molly's attention toward him. Her eyes narrowed into slits and she waved her finger at him in admonishment.

"Don't use that tone with me, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Molly shrieked. Her shrill voice brokered no room for arguments. "There's no way that I'll leave your sister here after what's happened! You children are not staying at Hogwarts until we know it's safe." Her determined gaze fell upon Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

The heated argument had Arthur sighing and massaging his temples – an expected headache was surely on its way. He did not want to witness the ongoing debacle, so, he left his wife to her own devices. If he had stayed a little longer he would have known that the next words Harry said were what made Molly doubt her firm stand on the matter.

"I know you mean well, Mrs. Weasley, and as much as you've become a mother figure in my life, I won't sit around and do nothing," Harry spoke as he held himself headstrong, unyielding determination was set in his hard, green eyes. "Voldemort already took so much from me… I need to destroy him. This is _my_ destiny."

Hermione did not say anything, although she believed what Harry said was true – the prophecy did not lie. She squeezed Harry's shoulder to reassure him of her support. Then, she turned to face Molly. "The three of us are a package deal, Mrs. Weasley, and we chose to stay here, for the time being."

"Please understand, Mum," Ron's final plea with the Weasley matriarch had the older woman eventually acquiescing and slowly, her expression began to soften.

Molly pulled her son into a quick embrace. "Be careful and take care of your sister. I know she won't come home with us if she finds out I allowed you to stay here. If something bad happens, don't think twice. _Come home_."

"Yes, Mum," Ron sighed and rolled his eyes but the half smile on his face was sincere.

This was his mother's last request before she bid them farewell and disapparated from the castle grounds along with her husband. Their exit was followed by Bill, Fleur, Lupin, Tonks, Shacklebolt, and Moody.

* * *

Hours later, the trio found themselves in the Room of Requirement, before Hermione activated the charmed galleon she created. Their plan was to resurrect Dumbledore's Army and their success was tantamount on the members left willing to fight again. It did not surprise her when she looked up to find that the first person who responded to their call and made his way into the room was their classmate, Neville Longbottom.

"I received the message," Neville spoke, his gaze was settled upon the three of them. His stance was alert even if worry was evident in his tone. "Is everything alright?"

What made an impact on Hermione, however, was how much he had grown. He was apprehensive, yet unafraid, so unlike the first year student she met years ago.

"Thank you for coming, Neville," Hermione replied, but did not answer his question as he occupied one of the vacant seats. "We'll start once everyone is here."

Each person present in the room found it mildly discomforting to engage in small talk when topics such as: Dumbledore's death, Snape's betrayal, Malfoy's involvement, and the Death Eaters' raid at Hogwarts were at the forefront of their minds. So, they lapsed into a companionable silence after a few brief hellos and how-are-yous until another hour had passed before Ginny and Luna finally arrived.

 _This must be it_. Hermione felt her optimism fade into disappointment while counting the remaining members of the DA who showed up when it seemed that nobody else was coming.  _At least it's better than nothing_.

On the opposite side of the room, her brown eyes watched Harry who has speaking to Ginny and Luna. He glanced up at her direction when he sensed her staring at him and she motioned for him to begin the meeting.

The Room of Requirement was transformed into a training room complete with padded floors and rows of mirrors lined the walls. Neville, Ginny, and Luna were a bit surprised by the transformation, but remained silent while they sat crossed legged on the floor as Harry stood in the middle. A blackboard was behind him and Ron and Hermione were on opposite sides of him.

Harry cared little for useless introduction and dove head first to the biggest issue at hand. "The night Dumbledore died, I saw Snape cast the Killing Curse on him..." He inhaled sharply as he willed himself to recollect the events of that night in the tower. "He  _killed_  him," he stated, gritting his teeth in anger.

Shock was registered on their schoolmates' faces even before their brains tried to comprehend the situation.

Ginny's lips trembled in disbelief. "N-no!"

"He did, Gin." Ron nodded in vindication. His mouth was pressed into a thin line. "We were there."

"Snape is a Death Eater who murdered the Headmaster and it won't be long before the news reaches the Ministry and Hogwarts will be closed," Hermione added as she recalled their conversation with the Deputy Headmistress in her office. "Professor McGonagall is already sending letters to the parents."

"We want to reform the DA. We're going to fight back no matter what happens," Harry told them, looking firmly at the group. The number of DA members had significantly dropped, a stark contrast compared to last year, but hope was still alive, it just needed time to resurface.  "And we hope you'll join us."

"Of course, Harry," Luna responded as though Harry was simply asking permission to have tea with them. "There's no need to ask."

Harry shot her a grateful expression and turned his back, lifting his wand as words began to appear on the board in his messy but legible scrawl.

"Please return the charmed galleons I gave you," Hermione spoke, "we won't be using them anymore."

Luna inclined her head to one side, though she did not ask why. She simply shrugged her shoulders, fished the enchanted coin from her pocket and handed it to Hermione. Her silver doe eyes followed the bushy-haired girl as she saw her hold her palm out and take the galleons from the rest of them inside the room, including Harry and Ron.

Eventually, it was Neville who asked when Hermione approached him, "Why, Hermione? How are we going to communicate with each other?"

After she took the last one from him, she brought out her wand and said, "Incendio." She watched the fire burn the charmed galleons, flickering and weaving it into a fiery dance under the spell she had cast. The hot flames devoured the round-shaped metal coins, melting them into a liquid silver that had quickly blackened and charred. The last remnants of magic sizzled in the smoke until ash was all that was left of them.

"Malfoy copied my idea when he let Death Eaters inside the school," Hermione answered quietly. Once again, her emotions turn jagged and her insides tightened. She still could not erase from her mind the sound of his haughty, arrogant voice in the Astronomy Tower.  _I got the idea from the Mudblood Granger_...

"I don't want to feel like a tool used for his crimes and he knows about the galleons which means our mode of communication has been compromised. I'll think of a better method – something more practical."  _And concealed_ , she mentally supplied to herself.

Harry stepped away from the board and on it read:

_VOLDEMORT_

_1\. Immortality_

_2\. Followers/Death Eaters_

_3\. Ministry of Magic_

_4\. Hogwarts_

"Voldemort is our main target," Harry began speaking, pointing his wand at the dark wizard's name for emphasis. "And if we plan on eliminating the host, we have to wipe out its sources starting from the bottom..." He moved his wand down to the fourth thing he wrote on the board. " _Hogwarts_."

"In order for us to ensure at least an 80% chance of success despite our small group, we'll strike the opponent's weakness unexpectedly while finishing it with a well known move," Ron continued from where Harry had left off. When it seemed that Ginny, Luna, and Neville did not understand where he was going with this, he felt the need to add, "We won't be practicing defensive spells anymore."

"Then, what are we gonna do?" Ginny's brows furrowed at her brother.

“The first thing we need to learn is how to fight without using our wands. We should not be afraid to use our bodies as a weapon,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly as if she was reciting a passage from a book. “What if someone disarms you? How will you be able to defend yourself without your magic if you don’t know that a blow to the temple can cause brain damage or that a jab to the throat can cause an obstruction of breathing? Wizards and witches rely too much on their magic and we will take advantage of that weakness – the _Muggle_ way.”

The predictability of Voldemort and his followers came straight out of the same old playbook: to dehumanize, destabilize, and antagonize their victims. It always offered a cruel but easy solution –  _chaos_ ,  _war_ ,  _death_. But that's how psychopathic dark lords try to win. It was human nature for them to think themselves superior over the rest of the world. Even Death Eater children were instantly labeled as future criminals of the worst kind which forcibly reduced the humanity of a child.

"I've always wondered what it'd feel like to break a person's bones with my fist," Luna sighed airily and inspected her fists. "Will you be teaching us, Hermione?"

"I understand the fundamentals but I still lack in the execution." Hermione shook her head and eyed the only red-headed boy in the room. "Ron will be teaching us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The training begins next chapter~~~


	4. The Room of Requirement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Sorry I haven’t written a new chapter last month, I was so focused on finishing my donation fic for a cause – Babies at the Border Fiction Compilation. I wrote a Gin ‘n’ Tonic Victorian era AU which I’m really excited to share with you all soon. Plus, I’ve been busy with RL stuff coz I’m moving to the UK this week and I’m pretty pumped (nervous) about that. 
> 
> But of course, thank you to those who bookmarked and gave kudos to the story. Much love to my awesome beta, Sunset-Whispers!
> 
> Also, I’d really like to thank the wonderful person/s who voted for me as ‘Favorite New Author’ and Tabula Rasa as ‘Favorite Hogwarts Era’ fic at the Beyond the Book Fanfiction Nook Summer Awards. It’s my first time to be nominated for anything so thank you! It really means a lot to me. 
> 
> If you love me and this story please vote for me. You can also check out the other stories from other amazing authors!
> 
> Link to vote: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSf9h-zaH8sTTErFV0GU_R1bCLNUDW-HszRzcuHJ7Ikk3lCZbA/viewform
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> 
> \----------------------------------------------------
> 
> This chapter is important because I wanted to emphasize the characters undergoing training in the story and it's not something I only want to write in passing. Muggle fighting will not be the focus of this story - there will be other key points. In addition, I specifically chose Ron to teach Muggle defense because in my opinion he is the best candidate for me - not Harry or anyone else. You can agree or disagree but this is what I want to happen in the story. Old martial arts books contain illustrations (fighting styles etc) and have exaggerated descriptions (ex: The 'death punch'- a punch that can stop a heart from beating) which I think Ron - a strategist, and his brothers would be intrigued by. Hence, their attraction to the book.

* * *

At times during war, retreating from conflict would be considered brave rather than foolish cowardice. For there was a large difference from being brave and being ignorant. It was when one knew how to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of action versus inaction, as fortitude was essential in order to withdraw from an attack – to allow the enemy to gain the upper hand until another way to obtain victory had been found.

This was something Ron understood well. War was similar to Wizard’s Chess. A good chess player should keep his king out of the opponent’s range, while provoking his opponent to make a move that would later be the cause of their defeat.

He might not be called ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age’ like Hermione, nor was he hailed as ‘The Boy Who Lived’ like Harry. He wasn’t the son whose parents would always shower him with praise, nor was he the ideal brother whose siblings would look up to him in admiration.

He might be strong enough to fight and brave enough to stand up for his beliefs, though, he felt it was never enough. His flaws were always visible and there were faults in everything he did. But he was not without his merits. For if there was _one thing_ Ron Weasley had above the rest, his actions were driven by his heart. He transformed his weakness into his strength and in this, he found his purpose.

“Defense is offense,” Ron was saying to the DA members inside the Room of Requirement after they had transfigured their clothes into more suitable attire that did not hinder their movements and cut off their circulation.  “In a real fight, there are no rules and time works against you. If someone is trying to kill you, you don’t grant them the luxury of striking you first. You might miss – they _might not_.”

“But before discussing any strategies or techniques, breathing comes first.” The red-headed male began demonstrating how he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth in regular intervals. “Breathing gives power to all movements and each breathing pattern depends on the attack you will execute. Slow and deep strikes will need slow and deep breaths. Fast and bursting strikes will need fast breaths.”

“Oh, we’re practicing meditation. Daddy tells me meditating wards off the Blibbering Humdingers,” Luna announced cheerfully and immediately sat on the floor with her legs crossed, eyes shut in concentration and palms cupping her knees. She did this in one swift motion, that Hermione didn’t have time to inform the eccentric girl that those creatures did not exist.   

Harry knew his bushy-haired friend would not let it slide. So, before she could open her mouth to explain that Luna’s statements offered little to no support for the plausibility of the creature’s existence, he interjected, “We should follow Luna’s example. I think having a sound mind is as important as having a sound body.”

Ron was quick to agree. Though, Harry’s comment was met with a glare from Hermione, before she sighed and followed as the rest of the group sat down on the floor to meditate.

* * *

“Timing and accuracy are skills needed when you throw a punch. It increases your efficiency and effectiveness in a fight. Perfect timing lets you hit harder while using less energy so you won’t get tired easily,” Ron spoke and took out his wand, conjuring six sets of heavy bags, speed bags and double-end bags for every one of them.

“You won’t be able to deliver a punch if you can’t make a proper fist. Be sure your fingers are clenched tightly together and that your thumb is securely wrapped around your second and third knuckles.” Ron showed his clenched fists to make sure that the DA members were doing it correctly. He inspected each fist and fixed any errors before conjuring a pair of boxing gloves for himself.

Hermione was impressed, he was actually a very good teacher for Muggle defense training. She then conjured gloves for the others because Luna and Neville had never seen that type of Muggle clothing before, unlike Ron and Ginny who had a Muggle enthusiast for a father.

“Never let your guard down and get the stance right.” Ron demonstrated the position and continued, “Keep your hands up, your elbows down, and put it close to your body. If you’re right-handed like me, your left shoulder should always face your opponent. Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and bend your knees slightly. Then, turn your left foot pointing towards your opponent. Put your chin down and eyes up at all times.”

Then, he swung his fist on a heavy set bag. His gloved hand connected with the material with brute force. The bag quivered slightly as the power behind his strike was only concentrated on the center of the bag. It left a glove-shaped dent behind which was how Hermione knew that Ron could throw a proper punch.

“That was great, Ron!” Neville cheered and Harry smiled in agreement.

“It’s nothing,” Ron replied casually but inside he was preening.

“You’re surprisingly good at this.” Ginny looked at her brother suspiciously. “Why are you good at this?”

"Do you remember after Charlie graduated from Hogwarts, he wanted to work with dragons and Mum almost fainted on the dinner table that day?” Ginny narrowed her eyes at him and nodded slowly, before he continued, “This was when Dad heard stories about Muggles and dragons coexisting even without the use of magic.”

Hermione immediately validated Ron’s statement. “According to legend, the ancient Chinese people used to believe that they were the descendants of dragons who were said to control thunder, floods, and rain. Although, there is a vast difference between Western and Eastern beliefs about dragons, one thing remains the same – up to this day, Muggles still classify dragons as mythical creatures because they have never been sighted by them.”

“Yeah. So imagine Dad’s surprise when he entered an old bookshop in Muggle London to buy a tome on human and dragon interactions, and the closest thing they had on the subject was a style on dragons,” Ron explained in amusement.

“A style on dragons?” Hermione’s brows raised questioningly and Luna tilted her head to the side.

"Yeah, _dra-gon_ style,” Ron emphasized the word and added, “It’s a kind of ‘marshall hearts’ move. I don’t think Dad still knows he got Charlie a book on fighting ‘coz Mum would’ve thrown a fit.” He chuckled as he recalled the skeptical look on Charlie’s face when Arthur first handed him the book.

“You mean _martial arts_ , Ron,” she quickly corrected him.

“That’s what I said, Hermione,” the ginger-haired boy said, frowning at Hermione when she rolled her eyes at him, then, he went back to the topic. “The book was filled with different fighting styles, so every time Bill and Charlie went home for Christmas, we’d sneak inside their room and try out all those moves without Mum and Dad finding out. It was bloody wicked! Bill has a killer right hook while Charlie has a mean uppercut. Fred’s a born fighter and George can really… BAM, knock one right in the kisser!”

“What about Percy?” Ginny asked then exclaimed in exasperation. “I can’t believe not one of my brothers told me any of this!”

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “You were too young–”

“You’re only a year older than me!” Ginny shouted at him.

He paid her no mind and made a face. “And Percy’s a shrew.”

* * *

 “A good kick is like a good punch – both can wear your opponent down. In order for a kick to be effective, remember these things: how accurate you are in landing a kick, how you position your legs when you throw a kick, how much power you put into your kick, and the speed of the kick,” Ron enumerated each key component and went into a fighting stance. He motioned for them to do the same and once they fell into place, he carefully observed the position each member was in before speaking again, “If you plan to use your legs as weapons, there has to be power behind them.”

To stress his point, he executed a front kick by extending his foot and pulling his toes back. Then, he bent his knees before he lifted his leg high and snapped it hard by hitting the heavy set bag with the ball of his foot. He did this while moving his hips forward as his upper body leaned back. The bag rattled loudly from the sheer strength in his kick.

“You could’ve decked Malfoy a long time ago with these moves,” Neville muttered wryly.

“Using magic is a force of habit,” Ron admitted and scanned the group. “Now, why don’t each one of you guys try it?”

******

They practiced on the punching bags until their knuckles bled raw and their legs throbbed in pain and were decorated in bruises, as perspiration soaked through their clothes. Hermione could feel the sweat roll down her skin and sting the wounds on her hands from the thick, salty beads.

She had never done anything like this before. She wasn’t an athlete like Harry, Ginny, or Ron. Her body held no athletic prowess whatsoever, and the first time she participated in any form of physical activity ended in disaster when she tried to summon her broom in Madam Hooch’s class.

Today was a first for her. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Her heart was beating so fast and she was breathing rapidly from all their training, but it felt so rewarding. She knew they still had a long way to go, but progress was progress even a bit.


End file.
